


Coffee Prince- Lams (and other ships) College AU

by aangkatarazukosokka_aprilis08



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Bisexual Alexander Hamilton, F/F, F/M, Gay John Laurens, Gay Thomas Jefferson, John Laurens Lives, John Laurens Loves Turtles, M/M, Musical References, Pansexual Eliza Schuyler, Pansexual Peggy Schuyler, bisexual James Madison
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 06:09:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28346664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aangkatarazukosokka_aprilis08/pseuds/aangkatarazukosokka_aprilis08
Summary: Alexander Hamilton has a rough past. He grew up on Nevis and later moved to St. Croix, where he experienced a life-changing hurricane. His mother? Dead. His father? Left when he was little. His brother? Missing. Alex has always had the gift of writing and enrolled in a school in the greatest city in the world, New York City. He hopes Soo University will be the second chance he’s been wanting.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton & Everyone, Alexander Hamilton/Angelica Schuyler, Alexander Hamilton/Elizabeth "Eliza" Schuyler, Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens, Alexander Hamilton/Maria Reynolds, Gilbert du Motier Marquis de Lafayette/Hercules Mulligan, John Barker Church/Angelica Schuyler, John Laurens & Margarita “Peggy” Schuyler, John Laurens & Maria Reynolds, John Laurens/Martha Manning, Maria Reynolds/Elizabeth "Eliza" Schuyler, The Schuyler Sisters - Relationship, Thomas Jefferson/Angelica Schuyler, Thomas Jefferson/James Madison
Kudos: 2





	1. Alexander

Here it is. Soo University. I’m going to college and majoring in law. Take that, Nevis! I take a deep breath and carefully examine my new school.  
The walls of the main building are long and made of whitewashed red brick, while the door stands out with different wood tones and the herringbone pattern the planks form. A clock rests on top of the building, also made of red brick that had been whitewashed. The time reads: 12:25 PM, five minutes before I’m expected to arrive to be welcomed. 

I take out my off-brand phone and stop on the lock screen. There stood my mother, her arms wrapped around a smaller me. I smile a little and pull up the Soo University website. The banner for the university is brightly colored and blinded me a bit. I tapped on the activities icon and a list pops up.   
It’s long and I wonder how many things Philipa Soo stood for in her days. She would’ve been 215 years old or something today. She was married to one of the greatest lawyers in American history: Lin-Manuel Miranda.  
Lin-Manuel argued with _the_ Daveed Diggs to establish national banks. He’s been my role model for a while now. Of course, I disagree with him on a few things.   
Like, him cheating on Philipa and then writing a pamphlet on it. As Anne Boleyn would say, ‘Like, what the hell?!’ After thinking that, the lyrics of Don’t Lose Ur Head pop into my mind.   
I re-examine the activity list and decide that I can’t do all twenty-three, but I will do at least Speech and Debate. Besides arguing and losing people, speaking persuasively is what I do best. I look at the top of the website page and tap the words Student Volunteers.  
Pictures of eighteen to twenty-four year olds appear on the screen, but I skim through the denim jackets and plain eyes.   
My gaze falls on three women, part of the welcoming committee. One wears a hot pink shirt with some animal design on it and a jean jacket. Her hair is dark and curly, and her skin looks exactly like iced mocha.   
The second girl wears blue. A light blue beginning of a dress and a teal sweater around her shoulders. Her black hair is tied into a loose ponytail and her eyes are a perfect dark green. She doesn’t seem related to the first girl at all, though I assume they’re sisters.  
The third woman looks more like the first, only younger. She has on a pastel yellow crop top and she seems more innocent than the first girl, yet definitely guiltier than the girl in blue.  
“Angelica, Eliza, and Peggy Schuyler, huh?” I wonder aloud. “Twenty-one, nineteen, and eighteen. Look nice enough.”  
I scan the pictures of volunteers for more welcoming students. I spot three more: Maria Reynolds, Marquis de Lafayette, and...  
I blink. Then again.   
The man I’m looking at can’t be real. He’s too perfect. His curly hair, his blue eyes, his choice in clothing. He must be my imagination, I must be making him up.   
But he’s still there when I blink a third time. John Laurens. The most beautiful man on earth. Probably not LGBTQIA, though. Also, probably taken. From my experience, homophobic as well.  
I look up from my phone and scan the small crowd of students for any of the six. I don’t see any of them coming, from the front doors or just from a spot they might be standing. Though, if Maria Reynolds is among the crowd, I won’t know; she doesn’t have a picture. I don’t know what she looks like.  
For some reason, the fact that she doesn’t have a picture bothers me. Why doesn’t she?   
I shake off the uneasy feeling that had washed over me and look down at what I’m wearing: a black hoodie with the Caribbean islands in basically the same color, which is good. The light blue shirt beneath it is going to be a bit harder to hide though, since NEVIS IS MY HOMETOWN AND OH WOW I’M AN ORPHAN AS WELL is pretty much plastered in neon letters on it. My dark, ripped jeans are much more... normal.  
But, seriously, couldn’t I have done better with my sort-of first day of school outfit? This is not a good first impression, especially with my long, brown hair tucked into the back of my hoodie.  
A chorus of excited laughing distracts me and I look up. I see four people heading towards me, three girls and one boy. They see me, too, if the girl in skinny jeans and a hot pink crop top pulling the boy in a casual shirt and jeans forward is in any way a signal.  
“Um,” I say as they stop in front of me, “hi?”  
“Surely you know who we are,” says the girl in pink. She has on sunglasses, but the curly hair falling at her sides gives me enough context clues.  
“Angelica Schuyler. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I introduce myself. “And those must be your sisters, Peggy and Eliza.”  
“That’s a first,” says Peggy Schuyler. She’s wearing a yellow shirt with the word unparalleled on it in white letters. Her jeans are a bold yellow and her eyes are shy. “No one’s ever said my name before Liz’s.”  
The boy shrugs, but his eyes are trained on me.   
“I’m—“   
“John Laurens,” I interrupt. “I know. You’re hair gives it away.”  
His face goes red, and Angelica snickers. Eliza is by her sister’s side with a long, teal dress on. Her hair is in the loose ponytail I expected, and she looks so kind and innocent.  
“New kid’s already got an admirer,” Angelica jokes.  
“Angie, he has a name,” Eliza elbows her as John scowls. She looks at me. “I know you already know my name, but I don’t have the pleasure of knowing yours.”  
Peggy is next to John now, who has his arms crossed and amazing eyes sparkling with curiosity.   
“You don’t have to be so proper, Liz,” she reminds Eliza. “It’s not like we’re in England. And, Daddy isn’t around.”  
Eliza rolls her dark eyes and continues to look at me expectantly.  
“Oh, sorry, I’m Alexander Hamilton.” I tells her. She giggles a little.  
“That’s a mouthful. Can I call you Alex?”  
I freeze at her question.   
“There you go, Alex! You’re doing it!”  
“Listen here, Alex. You argue with me again, and you know where you’re going.”  
“Just quit, Alex! What do you know anyway? Nothing!”  
“I...don’t...” I pinch my hand, which is behind my back. “Sorry. Yes, you can. Alex is something I’m used to.”  
Eliza smiles. “Alex. My nickname is technically Eliza, short for Elizabeth, but Angie started calling me Liz, so Pegs did as well. You can call me that, too, if you want.”  
I blink. Am I seriously being given a choice? Wow, I’m going to have to get used to that.  
“Alex? You look stunned, are you okay?” Eliza peers at me with worried green eyes. My name sounds so much nicer coming from her.  
Usually, I would get a little upset if someone asks me that, considering my past, but she doesn’t know about that. None of them do. So, I simply answer, “Yes. I’m okay. Sorry.”  
“You say sorry a lot,” John says as he braids Peggy’s curly hair. Eliza steps on his foot. “Ow! I’m just observing, Liz, you don’t have to hurt me.”  
“Oh, please, Liz has the weakest punch in school,” Angelica says. I can imagine her rolling her eyes from behind her sunglasses.  
Peggy flicks her gaze to her sisters. “But Liz didn’t punch him, she stepped on his foot.”  
John finishes the braid and puts an arm around her. “Bingo.”  
“Are you two...?” I can’t help asking. John actually starts laughing.   
“What? No!” he replies. “I’m gay.”  
I barely catch what he says. “I’m sorry, what?”  
“Like I said, you apologize a lot,” John comments. “I’m homosexual.”  
“Not homophobic?”   
“No, of course not! That’s impossible, anyway.”  
I feel some of my hair come loose. “Not impossible. You can be gay and be completely unaccepting of bisexual or asexual or trans people.”  
“You,” he says, “are smart. I, um...I like your hair.”  
“What?” I quickly tuck the loose piece back where it belonged. “It’s not anything special. It’s just brown. Plain brown.”  
“Uh, I beg to differ,” Angelica argues. “Your hair is not brown.”  
Eliza nods. “It’s auburn. The perfect color. And it’s long. It’s not every day that I see a boy with long hair. John and Laf are the exceptions.”  
“Technically, Jeffershit has long hair,” Peggy says. John laughs and Eliza looks over to them.  
“Don’t call him that. Just because he’s not a close friend doesn’t mean you should call him names.”  
Angelica scoffs. “It’s not that he isn’t a close friend. It’s that he’s an idiot who thinks he’s the smartest in every class. Hopefully, someone will come around to oppose him and prove him wrong.”  
“I could do it,” I blurt. “And, you four are definitely the worst welcoming committee ever. Just saying.”  
Eliza tilts her head at me. Peggy slips away from John and takes her sister’s hand.   
“You’re right, actually. We should be showing you around. Come on, I’ll get Maria.”   
“Pegs, she said she didn’t want to be bothered today!” Eliza calls after her, but she’s already speeding towards the school entrance. “Come on, Angie.”  
Angelica doesn’t protest as her sister grabs her hand.  
“Wait, what do I do?” John asks. Angelica gives him a look.  
“What do you think? Look after Alex!”  
I watch them go and then it’s just me and John. I fish a ponytail holder from my pocket and absentmindedly put my hair up. My hair is easy to slick back, so I get pretty much no satisfaction. I pull it out and let it slightly blow in my face.  
“So,” John says. “Can’t decide?”  
“Hm? Can’t decide on what?” I reply.  
“A hairstyle. Long hair can be a hassle when it comes to styling it,” John tells me. “But yours looks good down.”  
I don’t reply. It doesn’t seem like there’s anything to say after anyway. I tuck my hands into my pockets and nod a little.  
“Thanks.”  
The next thing I know, I’m on the ground. The person on top of me is apologizing rapidly, over and over. I feel my lip burning, but I’m not concerned about it. I look up to see a girl with dark, straightened hair and wearing red.  
“I’m so sorry,” she says again.   
“Maria?” John is kneeling on the ground next to me.  
Maria has on a backpack, which is clearly weighing her down, and she gets up with a struggle. She offers me a hand, but I get up myself. I know the look her eyes.  
“Hi. I’m Maria. Reynolds. I’m sorry for hurting you, I have to go.”  
“Wait, wait, wait,” I grab her arm and she flinches. I loosen my grip. “Where are you going?”  
“I’m going to swim,” she replies. “There’s a pool a few hours away.”  
“What about James? He isn’t coming with you?” John asks. “You know, your boyfriend?”  
Maria tenses in my grasp. “I’m in no rush to see him. He’s out of town anyway. I’ll see you two later.”  
I let go of her arm and she rushes off as if her life depends on it. I feel the same sense of unease that I’d felt when I saw she didn’t have a school picture. But this time, it’s way more intense.  
“What’s up with her?” John asks.  
“I don’t know,” I reply. “But I’m going to find out, sooner or later.” I turn back to John. “So, Peggy said something about showing me around the school...?”  
“Yeah. Maybe we should start with the nurse’s office,” he says. “Your lip looks bad.”  
I shake my head and wipe the blood off my bottom lip. It tastes like metal when some of it touches my tongue. I can still feel blood seeping through and my lip starting to swell.   
“I’m fine.” I tell him. “Let’s just go inside.”  
John nods, but looks very uncertain. He leads me towards the front doors and the sounds inside are much quieter than I expected. There are doors in between lockers that I assume are empty for now. John knocks on the first door and a male voice says, “Come in!”  
We go inside and I see a man in the standard teacher’s outfit with a mustache and curly hair. It’s dark and his eyes are a sky blue. The teacher claps his hands together with a smile on his face.  
“My dear son has come to visit!”  
“Dad!” John says. Mr. Laurens scowls.   
“I am allowed to say hi to you, John!” he informs his son. He looks to me. “Who’s your date?”  
“He is NOT my date, Father,” John goes red again. “This is my friend—“  
“Alexander Hamilton,” I say. “You can call me Alex, though, sir. What class do you teach?”  
“My, no time for casual conversation,” Mr. Laurens chuckles. “I teach history to the freshmen and juniors. Don’t ask, because I don’t know.”  
“I wasn’t going to ask about the age difference, actually,” I reply. “I was going to ask if you teach them all the same things. Because, that doesn’t seem practical. Is it some sort of review? Making sure the juniors haven’t forgotten anything? If so, I won’t be needing to take junior history.”  
I can feel John’s eyes on me, and I look at him briefly. He looks surprised, even a little hurt. What did I do? Nothing, that’s what. John is just being a stereotypical sophomore college student.  
“Alexander Hamilton, you say? Alex for short?” Mr. Laurens asks.  
“Yes sir,” I reply. “I assure you, I’ll be top of the class by December. I’m only nineteen, but my mind is older.”  
Mr. Laurens eyes his son. “You could learn a thing or two...hundred, from this kid, John. He’s certainly brighter than you were in your freshman year.”  
“Oh, I’m sure that isn’t true,” I say. “John is very bright. Has the brightest smile I’ve ever seen. And he’s probably a bit smarter than I am.” It’s definitely not true, but I don’t want another sad look from John.  
Mr. Laurens actually laughs. “Ha! No, no, no. You should be in junior year, Alex. You don’t need four years of school. Two would do you good and then you’d move on to be a famous businessman.”  
“Lawyer, sir,” I disagree. “I’m studying law.”  
“Good! Show Thomas Jefferson who’s boss!” Mr. Laurens takes out his nameplate and puts it on his desk. _Mr. Rodgers_ , it reads.  
“Oh. I didn’t know your last name was Rodgers,” I say.   
“Hm? Oh, that!” he laughs again and takes a look at the plate. “My middle name is Rodgers. My first home room started calling me that and it stuck. My wife is Mrs. Laurens, and I’m Mr. Rodgers. Kids, am I right?”  
I plaster on a smile.   
“Yes, sir. Kids.”  
“How is Mom?” John asks. “Wasn’t she sick last time I saw her? Bad fever or something.”  
I feel my eyes start to sting, but I will the tears away. Not now. Now is not a good time. I’m trying to be a normal kid, not an orphan with a bandaged past.  
“She recovered a few days ago,” Mr. Rodgers replies, smiling. “She’s staying with your cousin and brother for the time being.”  
Nope. I can’t handle this anymore.  
“Excuse me,” I hurry out of the room and into the men’s bathroom.  
“Alex?” I hear John call my name, but I’m not listening clearly. Everything is spinning.  
I grip the sides of a sink and let the tears run down my face.   
“Breathe,” I tell myself quietly. “You’re okay. It’s just family talk. You can handle that. Breathe.”  
_“_ _Just breathe, Alex,” the beautiful woman said hoarsely. “You’ll be okay. I’ll be with you always.”_  
_“Mom,” the crying boy was hiccuping and coughing roughly._  
_“You’re okay, my boy. Come here.”_  
_The boy cuddled close to her and fell asleep with ease. He woke up in the middle of the night and felt warm and normal again. But the beautiful woman was not._  
_“Mom,” he whispered. “I’m okay again. Mom? Mom. Mom! No! Wake up. Wake up, please.”_  
“Mom,” I say quietly.   
I can hear her voice encouraging me to try again. To get back on the bike, to go back to school. I take a few shaky breaths and walk out of the bathroom. In the hallway, I see John being cornered by a taller boy with really curly, big hair. I freeze.  
John makes eye contact with me and signals with his eyes for me to go. I shake my head and mouth ‘no way’. He rolls his eyes.  
“What’re you looking at?” The boy turns towards me. He’s wearing a red, silk, button down shirt and jeans. “Oh, look. It’s the newbie.”  
“Oh, look, it’s the douchebag of this school,” I shoot back. “Did your daddy pay for you to get in?”  
He growls. “You should know better than to talk to me that way. I’m Thomas Jefferson after all.”  
“Ah. Jeffershit. I get it now. Ha,” I take a few steps forward. “I could’ve sworn I saw someone talking about you earlier. Maybe the idiot who thinks he’s so smart?”  
“No one’s proved me wrong so far!” Thomas tells me. “No one has the guts to major in law and oppose me!”  
“Law you say?” I lean forward a bit. “Well. Isn’t that lucky. I’m majoring in law as well. Looks like someone _will_ be opposing you this year.”  
Thomas has completely lost interest in John and is entirely focused on me. He’s giving me a harsh glare, almost as deadly as Mr. Thompson’s. Almost. Nothing can match up to the devastation Mr. Thompson’s words bring. I’m glad that I’m out of the Nevis orphanage, but I don’t like the idea of all the other orphans being treated terribly there. Hopefully, the years had finally caught up to Mr. Thompson.  
“...and then you’ll be begging to be out of this school!” Thomas’s voice brings me out of my thoughts. “Mark my words, newbie!”  
“You’ll do good to call me Alexander.” I say.  
He storms away and John gives me a thankful look that’s mixed with major concern. I roll my eyes.  
“I’ll be fine.”  
“I don’t know,” he replies. “Thomas Jefferson is the king of this castle. Only heir he has is James Madison, who doesn’t want all that power. He’s a pretty decent person.”  
“He’s one of Jefferson’s minions, I presume?” I ask.  
“Yeah. Thomas Jefferson is the king of him, too.”  
“Thomas Jefferson is a grade-A jerk,” I correct. “It’s probably insecurity. He needs someone to take out his own self hate on.”  
John opens his mouth to say something, but a girl dressed in yellow hurries towards us and tackles him in a hug. It’s Peggy. Her sisters are walking through the front doors now.  
“I saw Jefferson in here,” Eliza says. “Are you okay, Alex? John? Did he hurt you?”  
“If he did, he’s going to lose more than his front teeth.” Angelica replies.  
“I’m okay, we’re both fine,” I tell Eliza. She looks uncertain.  
“But you’ve been crying,” she says. I tense. “Did Thomas say something?”  
Angelica peers at John suspiciously. “Did he?”  
“Hey!” John exclaims. “No!”  
I smile a little at Eliza. “I wasn’t crying,” Lie. “I just had to splash my face a bit,” Lie. “Don’t worry about me, I’m okay.” Lie.  
I don’t lie a lot, but I do when someone doesn’t need to worry. Or, at least, when I don’t want someone to. I barely know any of these people, and here they are, fretting over me. I stuff my hands in my pockets and silently detach myself from the bit of smothering my new friends are giving me and John.   
I stand by the back wall, my hoodie and dark hair hiding me. I can tell that Angelica can see me, but she doesn’t bother me. I have to say, this is not the welcome I was expecting.   
But, I’m not complaining. It could’ve been worse. I could’ve ended up with no friends and only a major career to catch up to. That’s what I expected, actually. At my schools in Nevis, I was always the smartest and I made the classes run long with disagreements and questions and corrections. I was a target among both teachers and students. No friends except my brother and my mom. I don’t even know where my brother is. And my mother...  
After John finally pushes away Peggy and her sisters, they take me on a proper tour of the entire school. There are twelve educational buildings on campus, four residential buildings, along with two museums. John tells me that the dorms don’t open until tomorrow, the official first day of school. He says he’ll show me around when they do.  
The tour ends a good hour and a half later, and I decide to do something I’m good at: tracking people. Target: Maria Reynolds. Destination: Pool(?)   
And that’s how my college adventure begins.


	2. John

This is the end of my fourth date. Pegs is insisting that I have a boyfriend by the end of sophomore year. She said that last year, and I ended up in three ditches at the end of four roads. Don’t ask. I’m not in the mood to explain the complications of that.

The guy I’d had dinner with is a complete jerk and also a total stranger and waste of my time. He didn’t listen to me, and he sure wasn’t gay. I know that sounds weird, but he talked about all the girls he liked the entire time. While he was on a date with a man.

The worst part about him: he isn’t Alex. He doesn’t have wonderful, long, auburn hair and I don’t sink into his eyes at all. I’m outside of Applebee’s right now actually, calling for a ride.

“I thought Dean was going to drive you home,” says Peggy over the phone. “He is your date.”

Is that his name? Huh. I guess I wasn’t paying attention either.

“No, he was my date. And he’s not driving me home,” I tell her. “I wouldn’t trust him to take me anywhere.”

“Well, I’m not available, I’m out with someone myself,” she says. “I’ll text Alex. He’s studying or something. As usual.”

“Pegs, don’t bother him, it’s his second week of school and he’s already stressed,” I say. “Let him study.”

“Too late,” she replies, “he’s on his way right now. Wait on the sidewalk, he says. He’ll come get you.”

I know he will. If Alex is something, he’s a man of his word. I know I can trust him with anything.

“Thanks, Pegs,” I say reluctantly. “Have fun with your date.”

“I will,” Peggy giggles. “Have fun with Alex.”

I feel my face heat up. “Oh, shut up! Bye.”

“Bye-bye, lover boy.”

I hang up and wrap my sweater tighter around me. It’s not super cold outside, but I want the safety of my stuff right now. And I also really want hot cocoa.

I wait for about twenty more minutes, with regular updates from Alex. He’s kind of like a sports announcer, the way he jokes perfectly on text and in real life as well. He’s so free-spirited and funny and smart, that it’s hard to tell if he’s even real. Sometimes, it’s like he’s so perfect, it can’t be authentic.

I finally see Alexander Hamilton’s dark green winter coat coming towards me. He has on the heaviest clothing I’ve ever seen someone wear in October despite the fact that Soo University is in New York City.

“Hello,” he says when he’s in earshot. “Sorry it took me so long. I had to finish up some reading, is all. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I reply. “And, really, you didn’t keep me waiting. Twenty minutes isn’t too long.”

“It is if I’m coming to get you,” Alex argues, as usual. “You’re a very good friend of mine.”

Friend-zoned. That’s gotta hurt. Can’t be too into him now, can you?

But, gosh, do I want to kiss him so bad.

“Um, John?” Alex interrupts my thoughts. “You ready to go back or are we just going to stand in front of this restaurant?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah! I don’t really want to stay here anyway,” I reply. “My date just crashed.”

“Oh. Sorry,” he apologizes again. “Did you like him?

“Not really. He’s a jerk.”

“I’m sorry.”

Gosh, what is it with Alex and the apologizing? Only that part of him is imperfect, yet he’s still flawless with or without saying sorry.

“Let’s just go,” I say aloud.

I know my mood shifted just then, and I half-expect Alex to ask me what’s wrong. He doesn’t. I know any other person would, but he isn’t any other person. He’s much different than everybody else I’ve met. The only one he really seems to match with is Angelica.

They’re similar, with the same perseverance and ambitious fire in their eyes. They seem perfect for each other, and Angie definitely has some sort of crush on him.

“So,” I can’t help voicing my thoughts. “You and Angie have been spending more time together recently.”

Alex glances at me. “Are you asking me if I’m interested in Angelica?”

“What?” I look away, my face heating up considerably. “I, um...”

“It’s fine,” he actually laughs a little. “Angelica asked me the same thing about Eliza. I don’t have a crush on either of them. Someone else has my affections.”

“Really?” I turn back to Alex. “What’s her name?”

“That is for me and Pegs to know, and you to wonder.” Alex picks up his pace, his auburn hair tucked perfectly into the back of his coat.

I follow him, just a few feet behind. We don’t talk for the rest of the walk. He looks deep in thought when we get back to the dorms. He opens the door for me and I walk inside the dimly lit lobby.

“Did you know that this building was used as one of the largest schools in the 1870s?” Alex asks.

“Uh, no,” I reply.

“It’s not important, just something I thought was interesting,” he’s twirling a piece of his hair in his fingers. “How are classes going for you?”

“The usual,” I tell him. “My dad is out of town, visiting Mom.”

Alex tenses, just a little. “Really? What’s her name?”

“Eleanor,” I look at him and see his blue eyes glistening. “Are you about to...?”

“Hm? No,” Alex wipes his eyes. “Um...”

“You know it’s okay for you to cry, right?” I remind him. “I mean, I get it if you don’t want to. But it can be good for you.”

Alex shrugs. “I’m fine, John. I don’t need your worry on top of Peggy and Eliza’s.”

“You haven’t even met Lafayette yet,” I say. “Ah, the French. With their flowery language and everlasting sympathy.”

“Being sympathetic and being worrisome are two different things. For example: Angie is sympathetic. You are worrisome,” he tells me. “Not that I’m complaining. I’ll do that when I’m with Pegs.”

I stare at him. “You do realize that everything you just said to me was a complaint.”

“Remark.” Alex corrects. Light flashes outside and his tone changes completely. “Was that...?”

“It was only lightning, it’ll be fine,” I say. “I personally think that storms can be inspiring.”

“Storms? Inspiring?” he seems taken aback. “More like deadly to everyone in its path.”

“Please. New York doesn’t have those kinds of storms,” I assure him. “Of course we get the occasional big storm. Maybe two this month. Could be three.”

“Three storms?” Alex looks absolutely horrified. “I’m starting to regret coming here for college.”

“What are you so worried about?” I ask.

“Houses tumbling through the streets like they’re pretending to be tumble-weeds,” he replies absentmindedly.

I try to connect that with a natural disaster. “Tornado or hurricane?”

“Hurricane.” Alex looks at me, his blue eyes glazed in what looked to be terror. “Two years ago.”

“Oh. Sorry, I shouldn’t have joked around,” I apologize.

“You didn’t know. I didn’t tell anyone, and I really don’t want anybody else to know that I’m scared of weather of all things.” He’s zipping and unzipping his coat, something I do when I’m anxious.

Lightning strikes and thunder claps. Alex hurries forward, and I follow. He stops in front of a door, which has two name plates next to it:

_Robert Morris_

_Alexander Hamilton_

He takes out his dorm key and unlocks it. Inside, I can see someone sleeping in the darkest part of the room, at the front. A light atop a desk is lit and I can see books and a pen and many sheets of paper on it.

“Okay, well,” I say, a bit awkwardly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I turn and walk down the hall to my own room. I share a dorm with Samuel Adams, an old friend from boarding school. I heard Alex’s footsteps scramble into his room after the next thunder clap.

I can’t help wondering if he’s going to be okay tonight. But I’m also wondering who ‘has his affections’.


End file.
